


Coming Up Roses

by EdgeLady



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Buddy comedy, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Reaper76 Reverse Big Bang, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeLady/pseuds/EdgeLady
Summary: Come up RosesIdiom. If things come up roses, they produce a positive result, especially when things seemed to be going badly at first.When Gabriel has a teensy mishap over at his best friend Amélie's place, he tries to make it up to her via a bouquet of flowers. Turns out the flower shop owner is one smoking hot blond.Amélie makes it her business to ensure her disaster gay of a friend is successful at dating said florist. What ever would he do without her?Written for the 2019 R76 Reverse Big Bang.





	1. Chapter 1

Artwork by [lifewhatisthat](https://twitter.com/lifewhatisthat). This piece was written for the 2019 R76 Reverse Big Bang. The following story is based on this artwork. 

Gabriel thinks it must be a French thing, to be so dramatic.

Not that _he’s_ one to talk. He was the drama king in high school. Still is, really, and he’s man enough to admit it.

But it wasn’t like he was _trying_ to burn the place down. It happened all quite innocently. Well in his opinion, anyway.

There he was, minding his own business in Amélie’s apartment, preparing brunch for them both. The previous night they’d both been up incredibly late with work and her place was closer to the theater. He’d crashed on her couch, gotten up a bit later than intended, gone down to the grocery store to pick up supplies, and then got started on one of her favorite dishes from his considerable repertoire of recipes_._

He had just set the eggs to fry—the last leg of this delicious journey—and over the sound of popping hot oil he could hear that she was back in her bedroom after a shower, getting dressed. Perfect.

Cheerfully, he began the plating process: a freshly warmed tortilla, followed by a layer of refried beans spread over it. The chorizo was still frying in another pan on the range. Freshly-made salsa waited on the island counter behind him, and he turned his back on the range, another skillet in hand, dumping the _pico de gallo_ in there. He’s just about to turn back to the stove when movement caught his eye.

Amélie’s apartment is up on a second floor and has tons of windows in the kitchen and living room area, which faced the side of the building and the street. It was out there that something caught his attention. He couldn’t help but squint in the bright late morning sun as it streamed in. Someone was out for a jog, which certainly wasn’t an unusual sight in the least.

But what grabbed Gabriel’s attention is the bright blue of the runner’s shorts. His short shorts. Bright blue with pinstripes in yellow that leave most of his muscular legs bare. As the runner fully passes the building and nears the street corner beyond, Gabriel can’t help but notice that those shorts don’t do much to hide the man’s rather impressively muscular and lovely ass, no doubt formed at least in part by his exercise of choice.

Running did not explain that waist, or that shoulder-to-hip ratio, or the unmistakably muscular biceps that can be seen thanks to the fact that the runner is wearing a white tank top that is clinging to him like a second skin. With no memory of having moved, Gabriel had magically ended up standing at the nearest window, arms crossed as he watches the man reach the corner, hitting the crosswalk button. He jogs in place for a few seconds but pauses, looking down at his shoes, and perhaps there was a lace coming loose, or perhaps he merely needed to stretch, because he bent at the waist, that perfect ass suddenly in the air.

“_Madre de Dios,_” Gabriel whispered. He stared unblinkingly—and with only a teensy bit of shame—at that admirably flexible blond. Because on top of everything else, the man had to be a gorgeous blond, too, with impossibly sunny hair, cut neatly short but long on top.

Gabriel was maybe, quite possibly, just a little bit… weak for blond-haired and blue-eyed men. Of course he couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but even if this Adonis didn’t have blue eyes, he’d be okay with all the other perfection in this package.

Gabriel stared with a bit of a dopey smile as the runner gets the crosswalk signal and jogs off. He watched the sun-soaked godling as long as he could, until he couldn’t be seen anymore, tragically going into hiding behind some rather ill-placed buildings.

The spell cast by that gorgeous man broken, Gabriel took a deep breath, and inhaled the smell of burning food. And that’s about when the smoke alarm went off.

“Oh _shit_!” Gabriel yelled.

* * *

Amélie was upset. Justifiably, for sure, because not only did she _not_ get her promised _huevos rancheros_ that morning, but they also had a mess to clean up. Thankfully they’d managed to put out the fire before it spread away from the range, but a few of her nicer pans were ruined. Every window that would open was so, trying to get the burning smell out… and to silence the smoke alarm.

He’d apologized profusely over and over again and offered to pay for the pizza for lunch, and she _still_ felt the need to dramatically exclaim to the pizza place that was taking her order that her _friend_ had seen fit to try to burn down her apartment and there was to be _absolutely_ not a single piece of pineapple on that pizza even though it was what they normally ordered, thank you very much.

Gabriel accepts that as his penance, much as it rankles not to have his beloved pineapple on his pizza.

He was sort of hoping that Amélie would be a little less miffed when he tells her over their delivered lunch just why he’d nearly burnt the place down. She’s his best friend, after all.

But the French woman sets her slice of pizza down, primly laces her long slender fingers together, and glares at him with those dark unfathomable eyes across the kitchen table.

“_Attends_,” she says tartly. “Let me see if I am understanding you, _Gabriel_.” She’s speaking in that throaty voice of hers, eyes half-lidded, that fabulously prim Parisian accent strong, particularly when her lips wrap around his name in a near purr.

Oh, man, he is in some _deep_ shit.

“I received neither my promised brunch that I was _so_ looking forward to, my apartment was nearly burnt down, _and_ you ruined my nice pans and the top of my range… all for a nice piece of ass passing by outside?”

“HEY!” he growls. “It was, like, a _really_ nice piece of ass.”

Amélie rolls her eyes and gives a deep, soulful and—in his opinion—overly dramatic sigh. “_Men,_” she says. “The stench had best be cleared out by tonight, Gabriel. Gérard and I are having a movie night in.” She glares again across the table and goes back to her pizza.

Gabriel also hopes the burning smell is gone soon. Because if it’s not, he will never live it down that he ruined her date with her Frenchman.

* * *

He will never live it down.

On Monday, Amélie tells everyone at the dance studio that he nearly burned her apartment down cooking. The dancers titter and laugh, while he hangs in head in mock shame and gets to work.

The topic doesn’t come back up all morning, because they have much to do. Gabriel is the costume designer for the dance troupe, while Amélie is the lead choreographer. The current show, which debuted on Friday night, would run for the next three weeks, but they had to plan for the next one well in advance, and they spent much of the morning arguing over costumes.

This is what they always did, and had since they both ended up working here, and it’s why they became the best of friends as well. None of the dancers or other employees so much as batted an eye to hear the loud discussion taking place in Amélie’s office, their voices carrying because of their excitement and passion.

He offers to pick up lunch at a nearby burger joint, and realizes the mishap over the weekend has not been forgotten—and definitely not forgiven—when Amélie, without looking up from what she’s writing, gives him her order, and tops it off with a curt, “And be sure to ask them not to scorch it, _oui_?”

Gabriel lets out a deep sigh and heads out. Yup, never living it down. In retrospect, while he’d apologized several times already, he hadn’t actually made things better. Replacing her prized pans will take some time because they can’t be cheap. But in the meantime, as he’s about to leave the building, something occurs to him, and he pauses at the front desk, where a chipper dark-haired woman is just finishing up on a phone call.

“Hey, Lena,” Gabriel says.

"Hiya!” she chirps, turning to him with a big smile and bright dark eyes. “What’s going on, Gabe?”

“Hey, I was wondering… do you ever buy flowers for Emily?” he asks.

“Do I ever!” Lena exclaims. As usual when she becomes excited—especially about her girlfriend—her British accent becomes deeper. “Ems loves flowers!”

“So you know a good florist in the area?” Gabriel says with some hope.

“I sure do! It’s kind of a new place, but it’s really pretty inside and the man who runs it is a nice chap! You want the address?”

Gabriel does, and he offers to bring her back lunch in thanks for her help.

He might just live this mess down after all.

* * *

Morrison Flowers & Garden is, in fact, close to both work and Amélie’s apartment, and not terribly far from the burger place, either. He places an order for lunch and then hoofs it a couple of blocks to the quaint little glass door of a green building. There’s a long hallway full of greenery, which then opens up to a shop full of color and scents the likes of which Gabriel has never experienced before.

“Hello?” Gabriel calls as he enters the main store. He dodges around the emerald fronds of hanging ferns and spots the counter with the register, just beyond a set of poles that has what looks like ivy growing around them from floor to ceiling.

From somewhere in the back he hears a response: “Just a moment, please!”

Gabriel sticks his hands the pocket of his hoodie and cranes his neck to peer at the vast array of greenery and flowers. There’s just an explosion of color everywhere. Gabriel grew up in LA, so he doesn’t know jack shit about growing things. He’s impressed with the selection of the place, and never would have guessed from walking by that there was a veritable jungle of beauty in here.

Footsteps alert him to the approach of the store owner, although he hears them before he sees them. “Hello there! How can I help you today, sir?”

His Adonis comes walking around the corner of a wooden shelf behind the register. Gabriel is stunned into silence. He knows, suddenly and without a doubt, that this is the same man that he’d seen on Saturday in tiny blue shorts. He recognizes the sunny-blond hair, the broad and muscular chest, the sun-kissed skin, although Blondie is wearing far more clothes than before, of course. He’s in a rather questionable pink shirt with a green leaf pattern all over it, but it’s mostly covered by the deep blue apron he’s wearing. And god fucking bless, the blue of the apron makes his brilliant blue eyes pop behind the slim black spectacles he’s wearing. As if he didn’t already bear a resemblance to a Greek god of growth and virility, the gorgeous blond is cupping a small yellow pot with some sort of plant in his big hands, almost protectively.

Gabriel can feel his cheeks getting warm and he hopes to god his darker bronze skin keeps that from becoming too obvious. But he can’t help the staring, or the momentary O his mouth forms before his brain catches up.

“Oh, um, hi… do you sell a ‘sorry for almost burning down your apartment’ bouquet?” he blurts out.

Okay, maybe his brain hadn’t quite caught up.

The blond laughs softly, and oh _god_ he shouldn’t do that without warning a man, because it makes his eyes crinkle and his face light up and Gabe’s brain is definitely never going to catch up at this rate.

“That’s a first,” the man says cheerfully. “But I’m sure we can come up with something. My name’s Jack, by the way.” He sets the little yellow pot down on the counter. He has a deep, throaty sort of voice, and there’s a faint accent that marks him as definitely _not_ a native of LA. Something midwestern, maybe? “So you almost burned someone’s apartment down, huh?”

_Yeah because of your ass,_ Gabriel thinks, but thank the gods above, somehow manages not to say. He just grins sheepishly and runs a hand through his own dark hair. “Gabriel!” he says. “And I… umm… got distracted when I was making lunch for a friend, and… yeah. They’re still kinda mad at me.”

“I see, I see. Well that is pretty serious,” Blondie says. He looks around his shop, brows furrowed a bit in thought. “Let’s see what we can do. Do you know what kind of flowers your friend likes? And they aren’t allergic to anything are they?”

Gabriel frowns in thought. Well, Gérard had brought roses before, but he figures a bouquet of big red roses screams romance a bit too much. But Amélie had always seemed to enjoy them. Jewelry. She wore a lot of jewelry and she had some flower-shaped earrings and necklaces. What kind of flowers were they?

Oh _hell._ He was going to be standing there all day staring stupidly at Mr. Jack at this rate. At least Jack doesn’t seem to mind. He’s patiently waiting, hands on his hips, smile on his face, blue eyes focused on him.

“No allergies that I know about. Do you have any black or dark purple flowers?” Gabriel says finally.

* * *

Jack and Gabriel are standing together staring at the flower arrangement in the pretty black glass vase, and for a long moment neither of them say a word.

Finally, Gabriel stirs. “It’s perfect,” he says, breaking into a huge ass grin.

The gorgeous blond furrows his brow. He still has doubts. “Are you sure?” he says finally. “I mean, I think the other one is pretty nice too.”

Gabriel beams at him. The florist had graciously put together two different arrangements, despite the fact that Gabe hadn’t asked him to. The second one, which is also in a very nice vase of black glass, features several flowers that Gabe doesn’t have names for in vibrant shades of blue and white, while at the center are flowers in very dark purple, almost black, and at the very center of it all, standing tall and beautiful, is the one flower Gabriel _can_ name: a black dahlia.

The first arrangement was virtually the same, with the notable exception that instead of being surrounded in shades of blue, the dahlia is surrounded by blossoms in oranges and reds, with a scattering of white baby’s breath to break up the colors. This is what he’d asked for originally when Jack had asked if he had an idea for what kind of bouquet he wanted.

“The blue one is nice, but, I think this is more her style,” Gabriel replied, nodding at the orange-based arrangement.

“The dahlia is supposed to be her, right? Like that’s her favorite flower, you said?” Jack asks. When the other man nods, the florist inclines his head slightly to the side. “So you surrounded her in colors of fire. Do you really want to invoke that imagery when you almost burnt her apartment down?”

Gabriel frowns. “Well, you have a point. But I mean, I just thought since this is supposed to be an apology for nearly burning her place down, that it ought to include fire colors.”

The blond grunts. “Well, if that’s what you want!” he says cheerfully. He walks back beyond the register and reaches for the little yellow pot that he’d been cradling earlier that day when Gabriel had just met him. “So, since you’re a first time customer, I want to include a little gift.”

Gabriel eyes the pot doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says warily. “I kill living things.” When Jack looks up, his smile fading, Gabe quickly corrects himself. “I just mean, I have like, a brown thumb. I don’t do house plants.”

“Gabriel,” Jack says seriously, “if you manage to kill this thing, even through sheer neglect, I would be very impressed. It’s a cactus. It’s designed to survive some of the harshest environments on the planet.”

“Okay, well, challenge accepted,” Gabriel says with a sheepish grin. “Hey, uh… thanks for doing this so quickly. I thought flower arrangements usually took a few days to do?”

Jack’s pale cheeks obtain a flush of color, and he clears his throat, giving a self-deprecating little laugh. “Well, I… uhh… wasn’t too busy today, so I fast-tracked your order. It’s no big deal! I’m glad you liked it. I hope your friend likes it too and forgives you!” He’s tapping away at his register now, accepting Gabe’s credit card a moment later. “Hey, don’t forget me if you need flowers again, okay?”

“Ohh… I won’t forget about you,” Gabriel replies somewhat dreamily, with a stupid grin on his face.

Jack’s cheeks flush a deeper rose color and he matches the other man’s grin.

* * *

“Is the dahlia supposed to be me?” Amélie asks a short while later.

She and Gabriel are standing at her kitchen counter, looking at her flower arrangement. When Gabriel nods, she gives him a wry look. “Why am I on fire?”

Gabriel flushes, clearing his throat and suddenly asking himself why he hadn’t gone with the florist’s professional opinion on the matter.

Amélie stares at him for a few minutes longer, letting him squirm, but she finally laughs, her dark eyes lighting up. “Gabriel,” she says, “it’s beautiful. It does not replace my pans, but… it is a very nice gesture.”

_Oh thank fuck. _He might yet live this mess down after all. He grins. “Well, I’m gonna replace your pans too, but I figured you’d rather pick them out yourself.” He watches as she takes the vase and flowers and walks into the living room, setting the vibrant arrangement down at the center of her coffee table. “And oh hey, good news! Remember that hot runner that nearly caused me to burn your place down? Turns out he’s a florist!”

There’s a moment of silence as she slowly straightens and turns to him. “_Quoi_?”

“Yeah!” Gabriel continues cheerfully. “I mean, what are the odds, right? That I’d need some flowers, and that I’d end up walking into _his_ shop? Amé, he’s _gorgeous._ He has the bluest eyes, and the nicest smile, and the biggest rack—”

“Gabriel,” she interrupts. She’s standing there, arms crossed on her chest, looking entirely unamused. “Do you mean to tell me that you have taken the opportunity presented by my place nearly burning down, to… how do you put it? Get some ass?”

“We’ve been over this. It’s like, a really _nice_ one, and this time I can say that with absolute certainty,” he replies. She narrows her eyes at him. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “But to be fair, I didn’t… actually… ask him out.”

“What? Why not?” she bursts out. “All this trouble I’ve been put through, and you did not even ask him out?”

Gabriel opens his mouth and then closes it, just standing there blinking at her. He doesn’t want to admit out loud that he got cold feet because the guy was just so goddamn breathtakingly beautiful…

The French woman throws her hands into the air. “_Non!_ This will not stand. This man’s ass was a personal inconvenience to me. Did I tell you Gérard and I had to go out last night because there was still a burning smell in here? No, you will woo this Adonis of yours unless he refuses you!”

“O-okay,” Gabriel stutters.

“I have a plan,” she purrs softly. Her beautiful sharp features are now set with determination.

_Oh, shit,_ he thinks.

* * *

Amélie didn’t actually say what her _plan_ was, and work is incredibly busy for them both the next few days that they didn’t get much of a chance to talk. Gabriel, for his part, can’t stop thinking about Jack, and he changes his usual route home with the express intent of driving by the flower shop every afternoon. He never really does get a glimpse of the man in question, but that’s okay. Gabriel can’t help the dopey smile the outside of the pretty little shop encourages.

It’s not until Thursday that she pops into the wardrobe area, where he’s busy mending a dancer’s torn costume pants.

“Gabriel,” Amélie says as she breezes in. “I need you to stop after work at that place I know you drive by every night, and pick up a bouquet of flowers. Ana’s daughter is graduating from high school this week, did you know? Please pick up something nice for her. And nothing in black! Not everyone is as edgy as you and I are, chéri.”

“Okay,” he responds absently, focused on the cloth and sewing machine in front of him.

Amélie wanders off. It’s not until a short while later that he even registers the request, and suddenly he’s shooting up the stairs to her office. “Did you tell me to pick up flowers? And how the hell do you know which way I drive every night?” he says as he bursts in.  
  
She doesn’t look up from her paperwork. “Well, am I wrong? About you driving past that shop after work now?”  
  
“No,” he grumbles.  
  
“See? You forget, chéri, how well I know you, and how very gay I know you are. And yes, do go get some flowers for Ana’s daughter, please. Bring them by my place tonight, I invited Ana and Fareeha over for dinner. You may stay, if you like.”

Gabriel huffs.  
  
But he stops after work at the flower shop as requested, despite the butterflies in his stomach. Jack is busy with a couple of other customers at the time, so Gabe wanders around the shop, looking at plants and things, and eyeing the many pretty arrangements already done and ready to go, wandering if any of those will do for a graduation gift. Well this time he would follow Jack’s advice on the matter.

“Second time in the same week? I must be blessed,” the gorgeous blond says as he approaches.

Gabriel turns and grins at him. “Well, the customer service was just so excellent last time, I couldn’t not come by here for my flower needs.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jack says, smiling. “You didn’t burn someone’s place down again, did you?”

Gabriel blushes a little. “Heh, naw. Not yet, anyway. Actually, I just need a nice bouquet for a young lady that’s graduating high school, the daughter of a friend. Got any recommendations?”

“If you want to challenge me, you’ll have to do better than that,” Jack says with a chuckle. “Come on over, I have a bunch of pre-made graduation arrangements.”

Gabriel trots after him. Jack has a naturally fast pace, those long runner’s legs having quite the long stride. Gabriel is a weak, weak man. He can’t help it if his eyes are drawn down, admiring that tight ass in those tight jeans, and imagining what it would be like to have those long legs wrapped around—

“Here we are,” Jack says, stopping so suddenly that very distracted Gabriel almost runs into him.  
  
“You’re not from LA, right?” Gabe bursts out, not even looking at the wall of flowers.

Jack turns to him, blinking. “Alright. What gave me away?” he pouts, which _holy shit_ he should not be allowed to do that. Gabriel’s heart skips a beat.

“The accent. The small town charm. The fact that you know how to grow shit,” Gabe replies with a grin. He is nervous, yes, but the more he talks to him, the easier it becomes to push past that.

Jack chuckles. “I’m from Indiana. Bloomington, or near to. I grew up on a farm.”

That explained the muscular and powerful build. The man was born into hard work. Christ. Having spent his whole life in Los Angeles, Gabriel had had no idea they grew them this gorgeous in the Heartland. Without even thinking about, his dark eyes do a head-to-toe visual sweep of Hottie McHotts.

Jack’s body language changes subtly as he realizes he’s being checked out. He stands up a little straighter, hands on his hips, a sudden slight rosy blush to his cheeks. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous.

“So, umm…” the blond starts, sounding a little nervous. “You have any preference on the arrangements?”

“Whatever you think is best,” Gabriel says, not even looking at the flowers.

“…right. Here. This should do nicely.” Jack grabs an arrangement off the cold shelf and holds it out to him.

Gabriel accepts it, still smiling at him. “Thanks, these are great!”

They stare at each other unblinkingly for several seconds, and it’s on the tip of Gabriel’s tongue to blurt out the question, when the bell on the wall near the register rings, signaling new customers in the shop. An old lady and a teenager.

“Be with you in a moment!” Jack says cheerfully to them. “Uhh… I guess… let me check you out? I mean! You know, at the register?”

“Yeah, sure. Check me out,” Gabriel echoes.

Jack slides past him towards the register, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, _I already have._ But the old woman is nearby already and Gabriel doesn’t have the chance to do much more than pay for the flowers, before Jack is dashing off to help them.

When Amélie opens the door a little while later, she blurts out, “Did you ask him out?”

“No, I was about to, and then this old lady came in and—” Gabriel starts.

His best friend rolls her eyes and yanks him into her apartment.

* * *

He should go back to the shop that weekend, but he gets cold feet again. What if Jack thinks he’s a weirdo for going back so many times? What if Jack isn’t interested?

So Gabriel doesn’t go. He mopes around his apartment instead, which is much more productive, of course.

On Monday he arrives at the office late because he has to hit the fabric store to pick up materials for costumes. Barely has he settled down in his workspace with his purchases when Amélie appears out of thin air.

“Go pick up burgers for lunch today,” she says without so much as a _bonjour._ “And while you are there, visit the flower shop. Lena and Emily’s cat died over the weekend, so get them something nice, _oui_?”

“Uhh. Wow, that sucks. Sure, okay,” Gabriel says, blinking.  
  
Amélie is gone a moment later.

Jack isn’t at the register when Gabriel comes in. There’s a cute Korean girl that couldn’t be older than twenty manning the shop, wearing a pink apron with a white bunny stitched over her heart.

“Hi!” she says cheerfully. “I’m Hana! How can I help you?”

“Uhh,” Gabriel says intelligently. He looks around the shop a little helplessly, suddenly feeling lost. “I umm… hi, Hana. Where’s Mr. Morrison?”

“Mmm, he stayed home today, had a big funeral yesterday that he worked, so he took today off,” she replies cheerfully. “You want me to leave him a message for you? He’ll be in tomorrow.”

“No, that’s okay,” Gabriel replies glumly. “I need a sympathy bouquet. A friend’s cat died over the weekend.”

“Oh, that’s so sad!” Hana says, pouting a little. “I have just the thing!”

Amélie doesn’t look impressed when he tells her that Jack wasn’t even there this time. Lena appreciates the flowers at least.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel can’t fathom how Amélie keeps coming up with reasons for him to visit the flower shop in the weeks that follow. Every time he thinks he’s going to ask the gorgeous blond out, he falters or something comes up or customers get in the way or Hana is right there popping gum and watching them. He’s starting to wonder if he’s meant to pine for Jack Morrison from afar and only dream of him in private, which is a thing that he’s started doing.

He feels like a stalker by the fifth visit, and when he tells Amélie that, she gives him an incredulous look.

“Well, then, ask him out, you fool,” she says. “That’s the whole point. I keep giving you all these chances and you keep squandering them. Honestly, Gabriel, you are a disaster. Go get some flowers.”

“For what?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Surprise me.”

Not a comforting answer, but he does stop by the flower shop on his way home from work.

“Hi,” Jack says when he walks in. He sounds glum. It’s the first time Gabriel has ever seen him not smiling. “What do you need flowers for this time?”

“Are you alright?” Gabe asks, frowning.

Jack is standing behind the register, and when Gabriel asks the question, the blond looks down, absently picking at invisible lint on his blue apron. “It’s… it’s nothing,” he says finally. “Just family stuff. My father wasn’t real happy when I left Bloomington to come to LA, and well… he likes to remind me of that every so often.”

“Oh,” Gabe says.

“Yeah,” Jack says. He heaves a deep sigh and makes a visible effort to perk up, or at least smile. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. “So, whatchya need?”

“A date with you,” Gabriel blurts out without thinking. “I mean… if you want to.”

For a long moment they just stand there, blinking at each other in silence, both of them blushing furiously. Then, slowly, a genuine smile lights up Jack’s beautiful features.

It’s like the sun peeking through the clouds on a dismal day.

“I… I thought you’d never ask,” the blond says softly.

* * *

Amélie is sitting in a chair near the bedroom door, one knee gracefully crossed over the other, a glass of red wine in one hand and her phone in the other, and looking entirely disinterested in the proceedings.

The proceedings of which involved a solid chunk of Gabriel’s closet laid out on his bed, as he frantically tries on outfit after outfit. He is a man accustomed to wearing jeans and a hoodie on a daily basis, and although he owns nicer clothes, they tend to live in the far reaches of his closet and might as well be located on another planet for how often he wears them.

But he’s not going to show up to his first date with Jack Morrison in a damn hoodie and jeans.

He’d asked Amélie to come over tonight and help him pick out what to wear, but so far, all she’d done was grunt noncommittally at various outfits and sip at her wine, periodically looking at her phone and typing with impressive speed with just one hand.

He is not, however, altogether impressed by her lack of interest. His dear best friend is _supposed_ to be helping, and instead she is watching him fail. He is getting desperate as the clock ticks closer and closer.

“Amélie!” he groans, collapsing onto the bed in just his boxer shorts. “I admit it! I am a disaster! Helpless! I need you! Please!”

She doesn’t look up immediately from her phone, taking a delicate final sip of her wine and finishing it off before she finally looks up. Her face is set in perfect calm, and she slowly uncrosses her legs and stands up with her usual willowy grace. With a soft sigh she comes over to the bed, heels clicking softly, and peers at the pile of clothes. Without a word, she picks a pair of black slacks and a black shirt that he knows is kind of tight across his muscular chest, and drops this over his belly. Then she effortlessly finds a burgundy-red long-sleeved button-down shirt in the huge pile and drops that over his face.  
  
“Put these on, _chéri_. Leave the red one unbuttoned, about halfway down. Roll the sleeves up.”  
  
Then she walks out of his room.  
  
Gabriel spends several long minutes staring blankly up at the ceiling, counting to twenty and then back down to one.  
  
“And hurry up, or you will be late!” she calls from the living room.  
  
He scrambles off the bed with a curse.

* * *

“You look… wow.” Jack’s jaw drops and he stops in mid-sentence, visibly swallowing. He nervously runs a hand through his blond hair. “Just… wow.” His blue eyes roam over Gabriel’s outfit, his cheeks obtaining that pretty rosy blush that Gabe is so fond of as his gaze lingers on broad shoulders and a chest that seems to want to burst out of his shirt.

“You look good yourself, Indiana,” Gabriel replies with a grin.

It’s not a lie. Jack looks good enough to eat, in Gabriel’s opinion. He’s so adorable, in navy slacks and a white sport jacket.

They both look good, and yes Gabriel was indeed wearing exactly what Amélie had told him to wear.

“Red… red is such a good color on you,” Jack murmurs. He sounds somewhat scandalized, as if Gabe is personally attacking him with looking so good. “I’m the luckiest man!”

“Don’t sell yourself short, gorgeous,” Gabriel replies with a wink. This only seems to make Jack blush harder. “I’m pretty damn lucky, I think. Shall we?”

Gabriel had picked a nice place that wouldn’t break the bank, but was quaint and pretty and not super loud or full of families. It’s kind of a hole in the wall, but Amélie had insisted the food was good and the wine was excellent. Which, as picky as French people were, this place _had_ to be good, if she and Gérard liked it.

As with his clothes, Amélie’s choice in restaurants turns out to be the right call. Jack comments on how damn good the cheese platter they had for an appetizer was, and that he normally isn’t a big fan of wines, but the one the server had recommended was excellent. The main courses were just as good, and Jack couldn’t help but notice that the chef walked out of the restaurant and picked fresh mint and other herbs out of a small garden growing just outside, which he thought was simply smashing. Gabriel discovers that he very quickly is addicted to Jack’s chatter.

In between the courses, they chat easily. Gabriel finds that his normal tongue-tied anxiety isn’t there with Jack, and they talk about all sorts of things: their families, their schooling, what Gabriel did and why Jack had left Bloomington for LA. It’s just so damn _easy_ to talk to Jack, and by the end of the evening, Gabe is beyond smitten with this gorgeous, sweet, cornfed blond.

When Gabriel walks him back to his apartment, they stand in silence just inside the main entryway of the building in awkward silence before they both laugh a little.

“Can I kiss you good night?” Gabriel asks.

He watches, fascinated, as that blush comes back across those pale cheeks. “I… I… wish you would,” Jack says, almost in a whisper.

Gabe kisses him softly, tentatively. It’s sweet and chaste and they both smile.

He’s not expecting when Jack suddenly shoves him against the wall of mailboxes and kisses him harder, with genuine hunger. Thank fuck his body reacts while his brain is still hanging back in total confusion. He finds his own fingers sliding through gorgeous blond hair as their lips lock and Jack’s tongue pushes into his mouth and suddenly they are Frenching and and—

“Holy _shit,_” Gabriel breathes out when they finally have to come up for air.

“I’m… I’m really sorry!” Jack exclaims, his entire face turning bright red with embarrassment. “I-I should have asked! I’m sorry—”

Gabriel shuts him up with another kiss. Deep, but not quite so sloppy or desperate as the last one.

When they separate from this one, Jack has a dopey smile on his face and he looks so fucking adorable that Gabriel wants to kiss him for hours.

But as much as he wants to find out if that adorable blush goes all the way down to his chest (and possibly beyond?), and as much as he’s not usually shy about jumping into bed with pretty boys, Gabriel finds that he’s in no rush with Jack. In fact, quite the opposite. He wants to take this slow.

“Jack… do you think we could go out again? Soon?”

“I was hoping we could,” Jack replies. “Do you… want to come upstairs?”

“I think… maybe I shouldn’t,” Gabriel says slowly. “I’m not sure I can control myself around you, gorgeous.” He takes Jack’s hand and drops a tender kiss across his knuckles. “Next time, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, his blue eyes wide and huge as he looks from his hand to Gabriel’s face. “N-next time…”

Jack Morrison looks like an angel, Gabe decides.

* * *

Jack is giving him that cute dopey smile across the counter and it makes Gabriel feel warm inside. He leans his elbow on the counter and smiles back.

“You don’t have to keep buying flowers,” Jack says after a moment. “I mean, I appreciate the business, but… that’s not a requirement for me to date you, you know.”

Gabriel hums thoughtfully. “Maybe I want to? Maybe I just love flowers that much?”

Jack chuckles, straightening as the little bell on the door rings, signaling someone has walked into the shop. He waves at the new customer, but doesn’t go to greet them. He doesn’t have to, because Hana comes out from the back just then, shoots both of the men a wink and a grin, and walks over to attend the customer.

“I’ve never met anyone who buys as many flowers as you do,” the blond replies, chuckling. “This stuff is expensive. Even with the friends and family discount.”

Gabriel knows. But Amélie is still giving him excuses to buy flowers for other people all the time. Or for herself. This bouquet he’s picking up is for the office, in fact. She’s gotten accustomed to having a fresh bouquet on the front desk. And at least once a week she’s sending him off to ‘give some business to that boy toy of yours and take him some lunch too.’

At least she’s paying for all the flowers. Well, most of them. And all the thoughtful lunches Gabriel picks up for Jack are scoring some serious boyfriend points with Jack.

“Oh, here! You scored another loyal customer gift,” Jack says cheerfully.  
  
He places a small red ceramic pot on the counter which has a small succulent with a tiny red flower in it—which Gabriel only knows it’s called that because he’s been learning a great deal about plants and flowers from Jack. Gabriel bends over closer to the counter and peers at the pot, which looks different than the other ‘loyalty gifts’ Jack had given him before.  
  
“This pot is nice,” he says. It has a bunch of swirls in the surface. The other pots he’d received before had been just plain ceramic.  
  
“You think so?” Jack says softly. Gabriel looks up and notices the other man’s cheeks are flushing a soft pink. “I… umm… made it myself. It’s not really fancy, I know, but I’m just starting out learning how to work with clay and ceramic. I take classes sometimes. I thought you might like the red.”

“I love it!” Gabriel says, visibly brightening. He’s not normally into pottery, but Jack had made this one. _For him._ It was special. “It’s a really nice job, Jack!”

Jack looks pleased.

“You know you don’t have to keep giving me plants, though, right?” Gabriel said after a moment, chuckling. “Especially if you want them to keep living?”

“Well I’ve been giving you just cacti and succulents on purpose, you know,” Jack says with a small laugh.

Gabriel smiles all the way back to the office later. It’s like he can still feel the soft, sweet kiss Jack had given him before he reluctantly left, with the promise of them getting together again soon. He’s still smiling as he gets back to work in the basement of the dance studio, with hard rock blasting over speakers. He has a small desk (at which he rarely sits) in the corner near the stairs, and the precious red pot with the succulent is resting there for now. As he works on the buttons of a costume, he thinks about Jack. After a couple of months of dating and lots of sweet make out sessions… God he was crazy for the blond. Head over heels. _Fuck._

He’s singing along at the top of his lungs to Metallica when suddenly the music cuts off, and he sits up at his work table and glares at Amélie, who has his phone in hand and had obviously just turned off his tunes in the middle of a serious jam.

“Gabriel, I can hear you in my office,” she sighs. “And I have never heard you singing that loudly before. You _must _be in a good mood.” Her lithe form is in a purple leotard and soft pink tights and her raven-black hair is neatly and primly set into a tight bun on her head. She’s got simple white step-in shoes on, probably over a pair of ballet slippers.

“I’m not in a good mood,” he replies cheerfully. “I’m in a _fucking_ good mood.” He sets the costume he’s working on down. “Did you need something? Or can I get back to rocking out?”

“Just wanted to thank you for the flowers. Or rather, thank Jack. _Ils sont parfait,_” she says, smiling. She leans back against his desk, and reaches back to set his phone down. “What is this?”

“That is Morri,” Gabriel replies.

Her lips twitched. “Another loyalty gift from Jack?” she says. She chuckles. “I notice he only gives you things that will survive your terrible neglect. You already have three at home, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I have John, Jack, and Francis at home. Morri is special, though. He made that pot himself,” Gabriel says proudly.

Amélie rolls her eyes. “You know you don’t have to name houseplants, oui? No one names house plants, Gabriel. And are you seriously going to keep naming them after him? They are all like, cacti, non? Are you saying your boyfriend is dry and prickly?”

Gabriel glares at her. “No!” he growls. “Only you would make that association, Amé. God. And it’s inaccurate to say no one names house plants, because obviously I do.”

Amélie chuckles. “Good point.” She crosses her arms on her chest and gives him a bit of a smirk. “Soooo… it has been what… two months? Almost three? When am I going to get to meet his very talented fair-haired man of the fine ass?”

“Oh, hold on, let me check my calendar,” Gabriel says, coming over to the desk and grabbing his phone. He swipes it open and frowns at the screen. “Hmm… how about the first of Not Anytime Soon? I don’t trust you not to embarrass me!”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Amélie says with a cute pout. “How could you say such an awful thing about your best friend?” She places a hand over her heart. “_Ch__éri, s’il te plait_, why do you hurt me so?”

Gabriel gives her an unimpressed look over her dramatics. Since she isn’t selling it, Amélie stands up straight, obtaining a perfect calm, cool expression on her face.

“You realize I know where the flower shop is, oui? It _is_ right by my apartment.”

He glares at her silently, arms crossed on his chest.

“I have an idea!” She brightens, undeterred by his dark stare. “Why do we not do a… how do you call it… a double date? Gérard would love to meet your sweet farmboy as well!”

Gabriel huffs.

“Gabriel, please, you almost burnt my house down over this man, and I’ve had to endure months of you being a disaster gay since. I think it’s only fair I get to meet him.” Now her face is set in cold, determined lines.

He rolls his eyes. She just _had_ to bring that up. “Fine. I’ll ask Jack. But only because Gérard can keep you reined in.”

She laughs. “Of course he can!”

Which doesn’t give Gabriel much confidence, but he _had_ just agreed to a double date, and with Amélie, there are no take-backsies on that sort of thing.

She’s still laughing as she makes for the stairs.

* * *

Gabriel had not invited Jack over to his place yet (and he’d never been past the first floor of Jack’s apartment, to be fair). Not because he didn’t want to, or out of a sense of shame—in fact, he prided himself on keeping a clean house—but because he’d been taking things slow. This was the first time he’d ever wanted to actually take a relationship this slow. He didn’t want to screw _anything_ up.

So he’s nervous. He’d spent the past couple of days cleaning and making sure everything had a place. John, Jack, and Francis—the plants he’d been gifted with so far—are on display, one of them on the island counter and another on the dining table and the third on the coffee table. He’d left Morri at work, because every time he saw it and the pretty pot it was in, it made him smile, and he spent most of the week there anyway.

Amélie and Gérard are already there, since she’d come over to help Gabriel pick out an outfit. She’s dressed in a tight purple tube dress that barely makes it to her knees, and stiletto heels. As usual she looks impeccable, and so does Gérard in dark slacks and a white sporty jacket. For Gabriel, she’d picked out black slacks—honestly, other than a couple of blue jeans, he didn’t own any other colored pants—and a dark blue jacket.

The French couple are sitting at the dining table, heads together, giggling and softly speaking in their native language, while Gabriel paces and forth in the kitchen nervously.

“Gabriel, please, you are making me dizzy,” Amélie calls out at one point. “Come sit down and relax. I have no idea why you are so nervous, this isn’t your first date with him.”

“I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to screw anything up,” he replies. He stops pacing and approaches the table, but doesn’t sit down. “I… really… like him, Amé.”

She gives him a soft smile. “I know you do. You worry too much. He obviously likes you too, _chéri_.” Her smile takes on just a touch of a sly look as she glances at Gérard. “Who knew that staring at someone’s ass from afar and nearly burning down a building in the process could lead to true love, ehh, _mon ami_?”

“Truly a marvel,” Gérard replies with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe you should write a book about dating, Gabriel.”

Gabe glares at them both. “I don’t like either of you and this was a terrible mistake.”

The doorbell rings, making the mistake unfixable, and with a curse under his breath, Gabriel rushes to the door, ignoring the snickers from his two ex-friends behind him.

Jack… Jack looks beautiful. Like he always does. Gabriel had told him his friends wanted to go to a nice French restaurant and to dress up a bit, and oh… Jack cleaned up good. He’s wearing navy-blue pants with a white collared shirt, and over that, a navy-blue sweater. Everything is perhaps a size under what it should be, so his impressive chest and arms looks like they want to burst out of his white shirt.

Gabriel stands there a moment, breathless and staring.

“Umm… hi?” Jack says, grinning a little sheepishly. His blue eyes are twinkling merrily, like he knows what Gabriel is thinking. It’s hard not to, considering Gabe’s eyes had zeroed in on that impressive chest.

Gabriel is a weak, weak man. He’s been surreptitiously checking out his boyfriend’s powerful farmer body since day one. And despite the fact that he’d never seen Jack anything but fully clothed, Gabriel would bet his car that Jack has _the best rack_ and it was fucking unfair, really, how gorgeous he was.

“Hi,” Gabe says, grinning like a fool. “Umm… wow… you look… mmm, wow. How are you so freaking hot, Jack?”

The blond laughs softly, cheeks obtaining that perfect rose blush. “Have you ever looked in the mirror? You’re smoking hot, Gabe. But thank you.”

Gabriel just stands there a minute, smiling nearly ear to ear. Jack shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat, and that’s about when Gabe realizes he should probably invite him in. He reaches out, taking Jack’s hand, squeezing it gently, and pulls him inside.

“So, gorgeous… I get to finally introduce you to my best friend and business partner,” Gabriel says cheerfully. “This is Amélie Guillard, and her boyfriend, Gérard Lacroix.”

The French couple have stood and are waiting near the island counter, and she steps forward, hand outstretched.

“It is a pleasure to finally get to meet you, Jack,” she says, smiling gently. When she says his name, it faintly sounds like _Jacques._ “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Ma’am,” Jack says, flushing a little as he takes her hand. “Gabe’s told me a lot about his best friend. It’s so nice to meet you. And you, sir.”

“Bonjour, Jack,” Gérard replies as they shake.

“I must say, I am always impressed by the arrangements Gabriel gets from your shop,” Amélie says. “So lovely! Thank you very much for your dedication. I wouldn’t have Gabriel purchase flowers from anywhere else, honestly. Everybody I’ve given them to have been very pleased!”

“Oh, are you the one requesting those flowers all the time?” Jack says, grinning sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if he was just getting them because we’re dating or what.”

Amélie laughs a little. “Non! I make him pick up my flowers… I know it gives him more time with you. And it is good for us at the studio, you know. Not only do I insist on having fresh flowers on the front desk all the time now, but every time Gabriel comes back from your shop, he’s smiling and in a good mood. Trust me, my girls and I like him that way.”

Jack flushes, obviously pleased.

Gabriel blinks, first at him, then at Amélie. Behind Jack’s back, she gives him a sweet smile.

_Oh, I am going to owe her big time._

“Oh, hey, I recognize these,” Jack says, noticing the cacti on the island counter now. He looks around the living room area. “Excellent choice in house plants, Gabe!”

Gabriel chuckles. “Well, I know a guy who keeps giving ‘em to me,” he replies. “But yeah, I’m rather fond of them. Gives the place a little life, but I don’t even have to think about them. This one here is John. That’s Francis, on the coffee table. And Jack is on the dining table.”

Human Jack turns back to him with a questioning look. “You named them all after me? Does that mean you think I’m dry and prickly?”

Amélie can’t help it; she bursts into laughter, but then very quickly slaps a hand over her mouth. Gabriel stares blankly at Jack for a moment, before the blond’s expression clears and he chuckles.

“I’m teasing, Gabe. I’m flattered that you named your houseplants after me. That’s very sweet. Although Francis drew the short straw, poor thing.”

Gabriel lets out a sigh of relief, then smiles. “I think Francis is kind of adorable. For both the plant and your middle name. Anyway, Morri isn’t here… I left him at work, on my desk. So I have something to make me smile every day I’m there.”

“Awww, babe,” Jack says softly, coming over to him. They kiss softly.

Behind Jack, Amélie and Gérard just give Gabriel huge grins.

* * *

Amélie doesn’t embarrass Gabe much. In fact, not at all. As it turns out, she’s an amazing wingman.

She keeps the conversation going without being overbearing and she’s genuinely funny, with her sharp and dry sense of humor. Jack clearly loves her in very short order. The blond laughs a lot throughout dinner. Gabriel can only stare helplessly, because fuck the man is gorgeous when he’s like this. Although to be fair Jack is always gorgeous.

Amélie tells funny stories about her and Gabriel’s adventures in LA together, from how they met to work mishaps to trips to the beach and a terribly unlucky weekend in Vegas, but none of it is overly embarrassing, and Jack clearly enjoys hearing about Gabe from someone else.

After an amazing dinner, Amélie suggests they go dancing, and Jack agrees that would be fun, although he apologizes for being _white _and not dancing very well. Gabriel doesn’t care about that; Jack dances with energy and has genuine fun, and yeah it’s a little goofy, but it’s fucking adorable and Gabe thinks his heart might beat out of his chest before the night is over.

“Amé, I’m sooo gay,” he whines at one point. Jack had excused himself to find a restroom.

“Gabriel, this is not news,” she replies calmly, sipping primly at her wine. They are taking a break from dancing, sitting in the lounge area of the club where it’s a touch quieter. “You know you owe me big time for tonight? The dancing was a good idea, non? And I have not even mentioned his ass nearly burning my place down.”

Gérard chuckles.

Gabriel nods enthusiastically. “The dancing was amazing! I get to hold him close, and uggghh, he’s so fucking cute I can’t stand it, I might die. Amé… I love him.”

She stops, suddenly giving him a very serious look, setting her glass down, and peering at him closely. “You do, don’t you? You are in love. Not even a little bit. Madly in love. My goodness.”

Gabriel nods, sighing dreamily. “Stupidly in love. Fuck. Help me, Amé, I’m gay.”

“Aww, _chéri_, I am helping you,” she says with a laugh. “But just so we’re clear, I expect to be your Best Man.”

“As if I’d have anyone else at my side,” Gabriel replies with a soft sigh.

“_Merde_, this _is_ serious,” Gérard says, dark brows rising. “He didn’t even deny there would be a wedding!”

“I should be so lucky…” Gabriel grumbled.

“He’s on his way back,” Amélie says with a grin, looking past Gabriel. “Go grab him and dance the night away, Gabi.”

Gabriel abruptly bounces out of his chair and throws his arms around her, startling her. Before she can even respond to the hug, he’s rushing away to meet Jack, grabbing the surprised blond’s hand and pulling him out of the lounge and into the main part of the club to dance.

Before leaving the lounge room entirely, Gabe glances back and sees Amélie watching him with a gentle smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack begins showing up at the dance studio a couple times a week, the first time surprising Gabriel with lunch from his favorite taco truck. During the midweek visit, Jack brings a bouquet of fresh flowers for the front desk. This becomes a regular thing, and when Gabriel asks him about leaving the shop in the middle of the day, he shrugs and says Hana has it covered.

It becomes habitual. There are days where Gabriel brings lunch to the flower shop and days where Jack brings lunch to the dance studio.

Sometimes, on weekends when Jack has a big event like a wedding that he is providing flowers for, Gabriel and Amélie and sometimes Gérard help. This means Hana gets her weekends free, which makes her happy to cover for Jack on weekdays.

Gabriel’s house fills with more plants. They are no longer loyal customer gifts, just gifts from Jack. And he starts expanding from cacti and succulents to more lively and vibrant plants. Gabriel doesn’t know how it happened, but one day he looks around realizes… there are plants _everywhere._ And he doesn’t mind… not even a little. Jack comes by Gabe’s apartment often enough that he himself takes care of them to make sure they don’t die, although Gabriel has tentatively made overtures to learning how to properly care for them himself. Jack is happy to teach him.

Jack also convinces him to take a pottery class with him. It was really messy and Gabriel doesn’t think he has the talent for that sort of thing. They almost get thrown out when Gabe asks the teacher if he and Jack can re-enact that scene from _Ghost._ Jack pretends to be mortified and apologizes profusely for his boyfriend, but later in the car he laughs so hard he about cries. They decide pottery may not be their ‘couple’ thing.

So Gabriel tries to teach Jack how to sew… for which the gorgeous blond doesn’t seem to have much of a talent. Still, Jack is happy to wear whatever Gabriel makes, and he’s actually quite good with non-sewing parts of cosplay like making weapons and armor and props out of a trip to Home Depot, so they end up going to comic con that year dressed as Captain America and Ironman, happily posing and kissing for the cameras of people admiring their costumes.

Gabe tries to teach him how to cook, too, which works out pretty well, even if they did let something get a bit too toasty that first time because they got distracted by making out. When Gabe tells Amélie about it later, she laughs and laughs.

When Amélie bangs on Gabriel’s door one night at nearly midnight, Jack happens to be spending the night, and they both worry that something is terribly wrong. But the ever-calm Amélie, acting very un-Amélie-like in her childlike excitement, grabs Gabriel and drags him over to his dining table and flings on the light there, thrusting her left hand in his face so he can see the twinkling huge rock on her hand. Four hours later, Jack is snoozing on the couch and there are four empty wine bottles on the table, and Amélie and Gabriel are pouring over potential wedding gowns on the internet via his laptop.

Gabriel is insanely good at the wedding planning thing, a process for which Amélie has little patience, and he takes over talking to vendors for her and working out details, and she’s happy to only be there for making decisions. He and Jack are there when the happy couple visit wedding venues, to give advice and critically assess the places. Gérard has even less patience for event planning, so he doesn’t mind in the least that his fiancée’s gay best friend is planning their wedding. Amélie and Gérard would have long lost their temper over the venues—at the salespeople and at each other—if not for the calming presence of their friends. When the decision is finally made, they insist on taking Jack and Gabriel for a weekend in Vegas as a thank you for their help.

The flowers for Amélie’s wedding, at least, will be supremely easy, considering they know a florist.

Not surprisingly, planning Amélie’s wedding for her starts the wheels turning in Gabriel’s head. Well, those wheels had started turning long ago, slowly, the moment he realized how in love he was with Jack Morrison. But actually getting into the nitty gritty of planning out a wedding, and working side by side with Jack to do it—his experience as a florist who had already worked on several weddings was incredibly valuable—makes Gabriel think more and more about what it would be like to plan their own wedding together.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he’s never wanted anything else so badly in his life.

* * *

Amélie gives him an unimpressed look. If they weren’t out shopping, she’d be staring at him dubiously over her glass of wine, probably.

“Gabriel,” she says patiently. “You cannot buy that man a black engagement ring.”

Gabriel waves a hand at the glass case full of rings made of ‘alternative’ materials, like titanium. There were several in black. “I proved you wrong, didn’t I? They _do_ make them in black.”

“You misunderstood me, _chéri_. I _know_ they make them in black. But you cannot get one for _him. _Would he even like that?”

“I mean…. I’m in black all the time, and he likes me.”

Amélie throws her hands into the air dramatically, rolling her eyes in the process. She turns around and walks away, perusing the jewelry store’s various cases. Gabriel hovers near the titanium rings, but now that she’s put the doubt in his head, he has no idea if Jack _would_ like one like this. He wanders around the area with the engagement rings, looking a bit lost, until a sales woman approaches him.

“Can I help you, sir?” she says, smiling gently. She’s an older woman, her graying blond her tucked neatly into a bun, and she’s wearing a suit. He thinks she’s been watching him for a while now, and had waited until he started hovering over a specific glass case before approaching.

“Umm… I don’t know,” he says uncertainly. “I… I’m looking for an engagement ring for a man, but I don’t really want to go with a normal diamond.”

“Well, these are just displays, as most people prefer the traditional diamond, but we _can_ customize a ring with almost any stone you like, and almost any metal you like. We will even find the stone for you if we don’t already have one,” the woman says. “Is there a particular style here that catches your fancy?”

Gabriel perks up at hearing that. He hadn’t realize the stones could be customized. He glances toward Amélie, and thinks she might be right about the black band. That doesn’t really scream Jack to him, it’s definitely more Gabriel’s style for sure. Jack is too golden, too perfect, to be that edgy. He studies the display case for a bit longer, when a silver band catches his eye. There’s a graceful Celtic-like pattern around the entire band, which makes him think about the fact that Jack’s family is Irish-Catholic in origin. The centerpiece of the ring is a square-cut diamond, and on either side of it are three tinier sapphire stones in a vertical line.

“That one,” he says, pointing at it. “With the pattern all around. Can I see that one? What metal is that?”

She brings it out of the case. “This is white gold,” she says.

“Can you do it in regular gold?”

“Oh, definitely, sir! Did you want to customize the stones?”

Amélie comes back over to him then, curiously listening to him and the sales woman talk, although she says nothing as they discuss price. Despite his earlier uncertainty, he’s suddenly convinced this is right. It _feels_ right. He puts a deposit down on the ring, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and feeling a little wobbly as he and Amélie leave the jewelry store and walk out into the mall.

It’s not until they’ve walked in silence for a few minutes that he suddenly stops and grabs her arm. “Amé. _Am__é._ Holy _shit._ I just… I just… put a deposit down… on a goddamn engagement ring.”

“_Oui, chéri_, you did,” she says softly. She gently pulls on his arm to get him out of the way of mall traffic, leading him over to a bench. “Are you okay?”

“I… hhnnnnggg… I’m… going to ask him!” Gabriel says, leaning forward and putting his hands on either side of his head. “Oh my god, do you think he’ll even like it? Did I make the right choice with the ring?”

Amélie chuckles. “Well, he likes you, doesn’t he? He will love it,” she replies.

“You… you really think so? What if he hates it? What if… oh my god, what if he says no?”

“Gabriel,” she admonishes gently, “it is coming from you. It will be perfect. No matter what. And… I suspect he will not say no. Not from what I’ve seen of you two fools together. Come, we must get you suitably dressed for the occasion. I will not allow you to be anything less than astonishing for the big ask. I would be greatly remiss as a friend if I did. And afterwards, we will get something to eat, and then to the bridal shop for my dress fitting!”

* * *

Amélie is there a few weeks later, waiting for him when he comes out of his room dressed in the outfit she’d helped him pick out. She’d suggested the really fancy restaurant too, the kind of place that didn’t have prices on the menu and that you needed to wear a suit for, but she’d insisted that he needed something with a bit more pizazz than a normal suit.

Which is why he comes out in black pants that seem to stick to his every curve, a deep dark red collared shirt in delicious silk, and a black velvet vest with antique silver buttons. The black velvet had a sort of Victorian flowery pattern pressed into it lightly. There’s a black jacket that completes the outfit, but that is hanging by the door.

She gets up from the couch, dark eyes peering critically at his outfit as she walks in a full circle around him, absently running her hand gently down the back of the black velvet vest, making him shiver a little at the soft touch. When she’s back in front of him, she pulls at the collar of the red shirt a little, smoothing out a tip.

“Gabriel, you look _de-li-cious_.” Her tongue caresses the word, elongating the syllables. “If he does not get an instant hard-on when you show up on his doorstep, he’s obviously blind,” she says, nodding sagely.

Gabriel’s dark cheeks flush. “Amé!” he says, placing a hand on his chest and sounding scandalized. “Please! That’s my future husband! Well… hopefully.”

She laughs softly. “Don’t forget the ring, _mon ami_, and the flowers. And have a good time, _oui_? There’s no need to be nervous. It’s Jack. You love him. He loves you. Go and enjoy the night.”

Still, he’s nervous anyway when he takes the stairs up to Jack’s apartment, anxiously smoothing down his vest and shirt before he knocks on the door. He sticks his hand in his pocket, fingering the small box there, the other hand clutching the dozen red roses behind himself so they aren't immediately seen. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. _There’s no need to be nervous. It’s Jack._

He takes a deep breath as he hears the lock jiggle and then the door opens.

“Gabe! H—Oh.” Jack stops in the middle of his greeting, and they both stare at each other for a moment.

Jack is wearing a navy pinstripe suit with a white collared shirt and a navy silk tie, and he looks nothing short of astonishing. Gabriel just looks at him, breathless.

_I… I’m gonna marry this man… if he accepts me,_ he thinks.

“Hi,” he says out loud, “my name is Gabriel Reyes and I am irrevocably, hopelessly, unbelievably… gay.”

That, at least, stirs Jack awake, and he shifts from one foot to the other, takes a deep breath, and laughs. “Hi, Gabriel, I’m Jack Morrison, and I, too, am really quite gay. Especially right now. Holy _shit…_ you look… just… _wow._”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Gabriel replies, giving him a dopey smile. “I’m just… so fucking lucky, you know that? Oh... I umm... here..." He thrusts out the bouquet of red roses.

Jack stares at them for a moment. "You got me roses?" he says, slowly accepting them. 

Gabriel frowns, his earlier self-confidence suddenly gone. "I... yeah, is that okay? No, that was dumb, wasn't it? I mean giving a florist flowers—"

"I love them," Jack interrupts quietly. "No one's ever given me flowers before." His eyes shine with a deep intensity and he steps forward and kisses Gabriel softly. "Come in for a sec, while I put these in water, okay?" 

"Sure." Gabriel follows him inside, watching curiously as Jack finds a vase and fills it with water, then snips the bottom of the stems, all with the care of someone who was accustomed to handling flowers. But once they are set, Jack takes the time to spread them out evenly in their vase, and he even pauses to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent. There's a softness to his features that does something funny to Gabriel's stomach and sort of makes his heart skip a beat or two. 

When Jack finally turns back to him after placing the vase of roses at the center of the dining table, Gabriel thinks he probably has a pretty dopey grin on his face. 

"Can I escort my lovely date to our anniversary dinner?” He holds out his arm, and Jack, with a brilliant smile, accepts it, sliding his arm through and stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.

“I'd love it if you did, gorgeous.”

* * *

The restaurant is one of the city’s most famous high-end places, located on the 71st floor of one of downtown LA’s tallest buildings, and Gabriel had made the reservation weeks ago to ensure they’d get one of the breathtaking edge tables, with the perfect view of LA’s twinkling night sky. Jack is stunned when they step off the elevator and into the restaurant, jaw dropping at the amazing view, and he sucks in a noisy breath when the hostess takes them to one of the best tables in the place.

“This is… amazing,” Jack breathes when they are seated. “There’s nothing like this in Bloomington. Chicago, I’m sure, maybe Indianapolis, but I’ve never seen anything like it myself… just wow.”

“You’re so adorable, country boy. I’m glad you like it,” Gabriel replies with a smile. He runs a hand over his pocket once more, just to be sure the box is still there. Then he opens the menu and tries not to be nervous. He’s not quite sure when to pop the question, but it feels like right now isn’t the right time.

Jack recovers from his awe, and ends up chattering excitedly about the menu, about the view, about work this week and some customers that had made him laugh. He’s talking a _lot,_ not that Gabriel minds in the least because it helps ease his own nerves, but it seems a little unusual. Jack isn’t usually this chatty. He oos and aaahs over the menu and asks why there aren’t any prices and then squawks in protest when Gabe says not to worry about it and order what he wants. Gabe has to order wine for both of them because Jack balks a little at spending too much at a place like this, despite Gabriel’s insistence that it’s fine.

Dinner is nothing short of extraordinary—easily the best steak Gabriel’s ever had—and still he’s nervously fiddling with the thing in his pocket. By the time dessert comes, Jack seems to have run out of steam a bit on the constant chatter, and he’s back to staring in awe at the view. Maybe now is the right time?

“Hey, Jack?”

When the blond turns towards him, blue eyes wide and beautiful, the words catch in Gabriel’s throat. His carefully written and rehearsed proposal flits out of his brain like a frightened bird, and he sits there staring blankly, entirely unsure what to say.

“Babe?” Jack asks. “You were going to say something?”

“_Jackiloveyouwillyoumarryme_—”

“Err, what? Sorry, hon, you said that way too fast,” Jack says, looking startled. “What did you…”

But Gabriel has whipped out the little box and suddenly he’s on one knee in front of—or kind of to the side really—Jack’s chair, and he lets out a deep breath. “I love you,” he says, a little more slowly. “I love you so fucking much, Jack. Will you marry me?”

Jack stares at him and then at the ring. It’s the ring with the celtic-looking swirly pattern, in yellow gold, and the centerpiece stone is a square-cut black diamond. On either side of the diamond are three perfect tiny rubies set in a vertical row for a total of six that twinkle in the overhead lights.

Jack takes in a deep breath… and then laughs.

Of all the responses Gabriel had thought possible, this is not one he had foreseen. He’s still kneeling, holding up the box with the ring in it, and he stays that way, blinking stupidly, not sure how he’s supposed to take that.

“Okay,” he says finally. “I… I… don't really know what to do with that, but I can't say it was at the top of my expectations for a response...”

“Oh!” Jack stops laughing and his face flushes. “Oh, god. Gabe, please… I… no hold on. I’m not laughing at you… I’m laughing at myself for being an idiot! I thought this was just a fancy anniversary dinner. I’ve spent all evening having an internal freak out because I didn’t know when to do it, when the perfect time would be, and then… then you beat me to it because I was too nervous to do it sooner.”

He slides a box of his out of the pocket of his jacket, and pops it open, revealing a black titanium ring with a single beautiful shining square-cut sapphire inset into the polished black surface.

“I’ll… I’ll marry you, if you marry me,” Jack says with a helpless laugh.

Gabe stares. Then he laughs too. “Deal,” he says.

They exchange rings and happy kisses, and now that the pressure is off of both of them, suddenly dinner is much more relaxed and they can enjoy what’s left of it. And long after dessert is done, they sit with hands held at the center of the table, gazing out at the incredible view.

It’s during this quiet, comfortable contemplation time that Jack heaves a deep sigh. “My father is going to be furious, you know. He always harbored hope that I would eventually sell the shop and move back home. But now I’m going to marry a California boy…”

Gabriel shrugs. “I dunno, I mean, maybe we’ll decide the city sucks in a couple of decades, and we’ll want to retire to the farm.”

Jack chuckles. “Babe. You? On a farm in rural Indiana?”

Gabriel gives an indignant sniff. “I would do great. Get to watch my big strong farm boy lift hay bales and get all sweaty and stuff, and I would make sure he’d have a nice homecooked meal when he was done with the day’s work. And like we could adopt a bunch of dogs and cats, and it’ll be great!”

The blond stares at him, before he smiles and brings Gabriel’s knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss. “God, I love you so much. I’m so damn lucky that out of all the flower shops in LA, you walked into mine.”

Gabriel just grins.

* * *

When the DJ hands Amélie the microphone, she stands up, her raven-black hair set in a neat, tight bun with tiny red and white and blue flowers adorning her head. She’s wearing a suit, albeit a very feminine one, and stiletto heels. She gives Gabriel, who is sitting with his arm around his new husband, a wicked smile.

And he knows, suddenly, what she’s about to do.

“Amé, no!” Gabriel groans, running a hand over his face.

“Amé, yes,” she replies smoothly. She turns back to the many tables full of smiling, happy faces, filled with Gabriel and Jack’s families, and their friends and coworkers. “Hello, everyone, thank you all for coming. My name is Amélie Lacroix, and I am Gabriel’s best friend. And I think it’s very important for all of you to know exactly how it is that Gabriel and Jack met. And why.”

“Amé, not in front of my mom and abuelita,” Gabriel pleads. “They taught me how to cook!” But he’s not overly serious about stopping her. He’s taking it in good humor, even though he knows he will never live it down—not when Jack hears this story.

Jack gently pokes him in the side. “Come on, I want to hear this. I think I might have been missing some of this information.

“Well, Jack, I’ll have you know that your dear husband nearly burnt down my apartment,” she says sweetly.

“Oh, my god!” Jack exclaims. “You’re the friend that he came into the shop to get flowers for!”

“_Oui_. But what you do not know is _why_ he nearly burnt my place down. It’s your fault, you know.” She pauses, and Jack, a question on his face, points at his own chest and mouths the word _me_? She nods. “_Oui_. You. You nearly made my building burn down. With that—err, how do you describe it so often, Gabriel? Smoking hot ass?”

“Oh my _freaking_ god,” Gabriel says, sinking down in his seat, furiously blushing.

Jack’s pale face is flushing a deep pink now, and he has his hand over his mouth, blue eyes wide.

In short order, Amélie has the entire room laughing as she describes the moment, Jack running by outside on the sidewalk, pausing at the crosswalk, bending over to tie his shoe, Gabriel staring for so long that he burns their brunch, their delicious _huevos rancheros_ that she had been _so_ looking forward to, why it’s absolutely _criminal _that she’d been cheated out of them. And ohhh her precious pans!

She tells the story with great dramatic flair, as French people are wont to do, and has her audience nearly in tears. Jack is howling with laughter, and Gabriel can’t help but chuckle at how much he’s enjoying the story, which includes the many trips Amélie made Gabe take to buy flowers, coming up with so many excuses to make him go by Jack’s shop, until _finally_ the fool asks Jack out on a date.

“And that, friends and family, is the story of true love,” Amélie concludes cheerfully. She waits for the mirth to die down before she takes a deep breath. “When I first came here from France, I knew no one but my old ballet mentor, who wished for me to take over her studio. When she retired, I was alone in a strange country, and this precious man with a big heart who loves making costumes offered me friendship and companionship. He’s even responsible for me meeting my own husband, although entirely by accident. You see, Gérard was working for his family business at the time, one of LA’s best French bakeries, when Gabriel calls me over to the counter by shouting inside a busy café, and I quote, ‘Amé, come here, I can’t pronounce this shit, I need you to order for me!’ Gérard was the one taking his order and tartly starts to say that he speaks English just fine, when he sees me approach, and suddenly he forgets his English entirely.”

Gérard, sitting at a nearby table, waves at her with a huge shit-eating grin, as once again, the rest of the reception guests laugh.

“_Mes amies_, I want you all to know,” Amélie continues. She turns towards Gabriel and Jack, a tender smile on her face. “I am blessed to call Gabriel my friend. Non, not just my friend… my brother. My confidant. He always made me laugh when I felt down and missed my home country and family. And he put together my beautiful wedding, took care of all the details so I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, and made sure Gérard and I had the loveliest memories.”

She walks closer to the grooms' table, her dark eyes shining brightly. “My dear Gabriel, I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am for you. For both of you. Jack is a good man, and I am so happy you met each other, and that it has led to this day. And I suppose, if I must… I can admit that my pans and my brunch that day were sacrificed to a good cause. So please, _mes amies_, let us have a toast, in honor of my dear beloved friends, Gabriel and Jack Reyes-Morrison… a most beautiful couple.”

There are loud cheering agreements and glasses of champagne being tipped back, and Jack leans over and gives him a soft kiss on the lips, his blue eyes shining.

Gabriel squeezes Jack’s hand gently, and then stands up and walks around the table. Amélie is handing the microphone back to the DJ and is about to head back to Gérard’s side, but Gabriel grabs her hand and spins her around, yanking her into a tight hug. She gives a soft laugh and returns it, and they stand there for several long moments, hugging. When they finally let go of each other, Jack is there too, and Amélie gives him a hug as well.

“You can have all the free flowers you want, Amé,” Jack says gently. “My ass and I owe you that much.”

“Oh. My. God,” Gabriel groans even as Amélie bursts into laughter.

He is never going to live this down, with either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really how I did it, with everything going on in my life, or WHY, but... you guys, I wrote another R76 RBB piece. This is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written, but I had a lot of fun with it. And right now, with everything going on IRL... I need fun and sweet and happy. I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Super happy to work with lifewhatisthat and their adorable and sweet artwork! Make sure you visit them over at [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/lifewhatisthat)!


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